


shining for the world (like a rainbow)

by theragingstorm



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Disabled Character, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Closeted Character, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Light Angst, Multi, Out Character, Platonic Relationships, Post-Crisis, Pre-Flashpoint, discussions of polyamory, the Steph/Cass is only one-sided if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theragingstorm/pseuds/theragingstorm
Summary: Uncertain of her own feelings, Cass has a necessary discussion -- and comes to an understanding.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson/Dinah Lance, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon, implied one-sided Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	shining for the world (like a rainbow)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Pride Month!
> 
> Title from SHEL's "Rainbow."

Cassandra knew that women were meant to go with men. 

She didn’t know as much about American culture as everyone else seemed to, especially culture at home in Gotham City, but she did know that. All over the city, wherever she looked, she saw women interlocked with men, saw girls her age twittering over men on TV and in their schools, saw young women in churches and mosques and synagogues in long white dresses kissing men, saw older women cooking for men or sitting on park benches with men or turning away from men with decades-old exhaustion in their faces. On the television and cinema screens, women and men had sex and squabbled and sometimes fell in love. When one of the others put on music, the men sang of women, and the women sang of men. 

Her own gaze lingered a little too long on other women, and, for some reason, she had to tell herself, _remind_ herself, of what she held true before she could look a little longer at a man. Whereas Stephanie Brown’s laugh, the way her hair caught and held the sunlight and the way she smiled, bright and hopeful with just the slightest bitterness around the edge, ensnared her and her thoughts without the slightest effort. 

That was what Cassandra knew. 

(She wondered if Tim felt ensnared too, if he knew and understood what she felt. But no. It _had_ to be that his feelings were different than hers.)

It was June. Summer set in fast and hot and jungle-humid in Gotham, the heat amplifying all the snarls and growls of machinery and humanity. All their family’s layers of black Kevlar were borderline suffocating during the day, but Cass ignored the discomfort and continued to work. As she chased mobsters and money launderers and some green-clad Riddler goons who found out too late that she of all people did _not_ respond to word puzzles, a thought plagued her mind. 

Her brief relationship with Conner, Superboy, Tim’s best friend, had clearly been doomed to fail, but she had no idea _why_. 

Perhaps the obvious answer would be Bruce’s ironclad opposition to it, but since when had she been above defying what Bruce wanted? She was wedded to his ideals, yes, but she'd learned that that didn’t mean she had to do _everything_ he said, and so she didn’t. Besides, Superman hadn’t minded. Tim and Dick and Steph and Barbara had been _very_ surprised, but had quickly gotten used to it. Conner was a good person, posturing and occasional hormone-addleness aside. He was objectively good-looking. He had definitely liked her. There was really _no_ good reason why it hadn’t worked out. 

Aside from the fact that she’d had to force herself to kiss him. That every time she looked at him, she felt no attraction, nothing besides the idea that she _should_ like him, so she'd _made_ herself like him. Maybe that just wasn’t enough. 

Cass was still lost in thought when she took a break from patrol, swooping low across the steamy city back towards the Clock Tower. Despite her confusion and turmoil, seeing it rise above the Victorian houses and brownstones of Old Gotham immediately made her heart lighter. 

She alighted on the balcony and slipped inside, taking off her cowl and breathing in the cool, air-conditioned breeze. The living area was clean and neat; the big windows let in plenty of the silvery, smoggy city light. She could hear the soft background hum of the great computers, and, faintly, the bass beat of music that seemed to be echoing up from one of the training rooms. 

Cass brightened. Grinning to herself, she followed the music, letting it grow louder and louder till she recognized the bright synth-pop; Dick liked to listen to that kind of music sometimes, this was undoubtedly _his_ playlist. She smiled at the thought, then opened the door and sure enough, Barbara, in yoga pants and a sports bra, long red hair tied in a ponytail, was ferociously going at a punching bag while the song vibrated through the air. Cass stood in the doorway for a moment, immediately taking in Barbara’s tiredness and satisfaction, the satisfaction she knew came of a good workout, a good fight. 

She walked right over, appearing at Barbara’s side, making her start and yelp, missing the bag on her next punch.

“Sometimes, Cassandra, I wish you would knock,” she said, reaching over to turn the music off. “But it’s good to see you.” Then, lightly: “Beat up anyone new and exciting lately?”

“I got Killer Croc. Yesterday. Tried to eat me. I --” She imitated what had happened, “-- knocked five of...his teeth out.”

“Well, good for you.” Barbara took her ponytail out and shook back her hair. “I gotta shower, just watch TV and help yourself to anything in the fridge and be good, okay?”

Cass mock-saluted, making Barbara roll her eyes warmly. 

She took a fork out of the dishwasher and ate leftover lasagna straight out of the Tupperware, not even heating it up, and curled up on the couch and scrolled through Barbara’s various streaming services. She eventually landed on a show that she knew Tim liked, clicking to an episode at random. 

Barbara had reemerged from the shower, her hair damp, wearing fresh jeans and a Wonder Woman tank top, when one of the women on screen was shot, splattering the other woman opposite to her’s shirt with blood, only just managing to express concern for _the shirt_ before she died. 

Cass watched the one yet living embrace the dead girl’s body, crying out in pain and fury and something else. Emotions stirred in her chest that she couldn’t quite identify.

“Next time you probably shouldn’t start in the middle of season six, Cassie,” Barbara said quietly, lifting the remote and clicking the TV off. “Also, honey, did you eat _all_ that lasagna?”

Cass was silent. 

“Cassie. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“ _Cassandra._ Don’t lie to me.”

Cass stared at the empty, sauce-stained Tupperware.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked softly.

Barbara looked at her for a while. Surprise, confusion, wrote themselves across her face. 

“Why does it work...with you? With Dick? With Tim...and…” Her breath caught on the next name. “...Steph. Why not with me?”

Barbara wheeled herself closer to the couch, her expression melting into concern. 

“Cassandra, what do you mean? What about me and Dick?”

“You love him. I know.”

Barbara’s cheeks turned slightly pink. She pulled out her phone and looked at it, ducking her head; Cass knew that her lockscreen was an image of Dick, standing in his favorite blue Superman shirt, hair slightly tousled, bathed in summer light and caught mid-laugh, filled with joy. 

“Yes. Yes I do.”

Cass dropped the Tupperware on the floor and petulantly kicked the coffee table. Tears welled up in her eyes and she scrubbed them away; she was tough, she was strong. She had survived so, so much worse than this, and yet _now_ she was crying?

“Why can’t I? Superboy was good. Liked me. Why can’t I love?”

All she heard from Barbara was a soft _“oh”_ before a hand came to rest on her shoulder. She tried to shrug it away.

“You can’t _force_ yourself to love someone or not, Cass. Trust me. Love just...sort of happens, whether you like it or not. It’s frustrating as all hell sometimes, but -- well. It’s not supposed to feel bad, or like something you have to slog through.”

“How would you know?” she shot back, before realizing how stupid that sounded.

The corner of Barbara’s mouth canted slightly upwards. 

“Look, when I was young -- about your age and younger, I mean -- I thought I could compartmentalize how I felt about people. I pitied people who seemed slaves to their emotions, _including_ your brother, when I thought I could so easily slam the lid on mine. A couple years later, I fell in love with a lovely, sweet private investigator, I stayed with him for a while, we were engaged to be married, and when this --” She indicated the place on her side where her bullet scar lay, “-- happened, I balked. I cut myself off from him. And I congratulated myself on leaving before I got left.”

Cass bit her lip, wondering what this had to do with her.

“But then, after I became Oracle, someone changed my mind. Someone encouraged me to open up, to step out of my comfort zone, to be vulnerable. And I was rewarded with unconditional support, kindness, honesty, and loyalty. Even when I didn’t deserve it. And that’s when I realized I could never really control love. Nobody could. And it scares me, but the love I feel, _really_ feel, I…” She took a long breath, and Cass could almost feel the warmth, the affection radiating from her. “It’s so much.”

Cass stared at her. Then Barbara cleared her throat, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. 

“My brother really...did all that? For you?”

“Well…” Barbara glanced off to the side. “Actually...well, I have to give him credit, he certainly did all that too, but he was the _conclusion_ to my understanding. Someone else was the catalyst.”

She pulled her phone out again. This time, she let Cass clamber up over the arm of the couch and look as she clicked to the _home_ screen. 

A beautiful blonde woman in a black dress had been caught in the same summer light. She was grinning brightly about something, extending her hand warmly towards the camera, and to the photographer. Her hair, trailing in the wind, caught the sun just like Stephanie’s. Cass realized with a jolt that it had been taken at the exact same time as the image of her brother. 

“That’s Black Canary. I don’t...understand.”

“Cassie, you can literally read my meaning. Look at me.” Cass did. “Hard as it was for me to admit at first...I love _both_ of them.”

Cass just stared at her for almost a solid minute.

“Not possible. She’s a woman.”

Barbara stared back.

Then she burst out laughing, almost dropping her phone as she clutched her sides, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“Oh...oh God. Sorry. It’s just... _oh_ . I really neglected your education if you think that’s not possible, oh...honey. Cassie, eyes on me. While it’s most _common_ for women to just like men and vice versa, it’s definitely not the only _possibility._ ”

Cass kept staring. Something odd seemed to bloom in her chest.

“Look, some people aren’t attracted to anyone. Some men just like men, some women just like women. Some people are born thinking they’re one gender, and eventually decide they’re another. Some people are neither men _nor_ women, and, theoretically, _anyone_ can be attracted to them. And some people, like me, like more than one gender. I’ve dated both men _and_ women, and at the moment, I’m with one of each.”

Both of their gazes slipped down to the phone again. Cass picked it up out of her hands and clicked to her camera roll, finding where she had saved that summer’s day. She found the images of her mentor’s loved ones, each on their own, and then she alighted on something else. A photograph Barbara had taken of herself, eyes crinkled as she smiled, but with Dick flanking one side and Dinah flanking the other. They had both knelt to put their arm around her shoulders, and each had their eyes closed in joy, lips pressed to her cheeks.

Cass rolled off the couch and took a few steps back, hand over her mouth. The phone was held in a grip like a vise.

“How many others…?”

“In the world, or just that you know?” Barbara smiled understandingly. “Bruce is like me. So’s Dick, so’s Dinah. I don’t know about Tim or Stephanie, they’ve never told me as such, but...you know, maybe. Before he died, Jason, he liked guys. Bruce’s cousin Kate, the redheaded one, you’ve seen her at galas, and my dad’s coworkers Maggie and Renee, they like other women. Exclusively.” 

For some reason, the look of understanding in her face grew when she said that. 

Cass silently handed her the phone back, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“They’re strange. _You’re_ strange.”

“No, Cassie.” Barbara reached up to take her hand, and her grip was soft, but her voice was firm. “There’s absolutely nothing strange about it. And don’t let _anyone_ or _anything_ ever tell you otherwise.”

Cass was silent for a moment more. 

Then, still holding Barbara’s hand, she pulled herself in, leaning over the wheel of her chair and nestling into her side. Barbara was surprised for only a moment before she wrapped her other arm around her, resting her cheek on Cass’s head, holding her close. 

“You _are_ tough and strong, Cassandra,” she murmured, “but it’s okay to let yourself love who you want, too.”

Cass closed her eyes.

Safely ensconced in the embrace of her mentor, in the gentle coolness of her home, just for that moment, she kept no guard up, no longer had to fight. 

Outside, piercing the perpetual smog, the June sun shimmered through and shone.


End file.
